


Just Dreams

by Nitonami



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Noxian!Ezreal, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:29:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4356275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nitonami/pseuds/Nitonami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the time he's young, he hears many things from his parents. Demacia's a lie, its people are horrible. He should deal with his feelings in private and wear what they give him to. The military is the last place they want him.</p><p>To be fair, Ezreal never was the kind to listen to his parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> My friends and I have been getting more and more into League, and I mentioned champions coming from a different place in Runeterra and thus Noxian Ezreal was born. I probably won't add on anything, unless people really like it and want more.

His life has always been dull. His parents never let him stray far from his house, distracting him with boring lectures and having him be taught by the best tutors available in Noxus. They’re loving, over-strict, and gone half the day. Being nobles in Noxus meant they were watched and observed and used with the military, using their brilliant minds to help strategize against Demacia. His parents don’t say anything about their child, urging him not to join the military. Their duty is to Noxus, but their love for their child stops them from allowing him to throw his life away.

He grows up learning that Demacia is full of lies; that, while they may be kind on the outside, they’re oppressive with their image, smothering those who show any sort of contempt for their government. Demacians are horrible, cruel people. If he’s bad, the prince will sneak into his room and kidnap him and he’ll never see his family again. It’s harsh, but he doesn’t have anything to tell him what he’s taught it wrong. He grows up hating seeing the image of Demacia and hating the families that reside there.

He receives letters from an uncle, detailing excavations and explorations of far-off places, daring adventures that he dreams about nightly. He wants to experience it; he craves the rush of adrenaline in the form of scaling cliffs, exploring ruins, adventuring into unknown territory. His parents aren’t fond of his interests, instead telling him that isn’t how girls act. He needs to be happy where he is and be happy without the taste of danger. Danger in Noxus can get you killed.

He quickly learns that he can talk their personal seamstress into making him trousers, boyish clothes far different than the skirts and dresses his mother insists he wear. His parents don’t comment on it, merely request he keep his strange hobby in his room, for fear that someone will notice. A son means military. A daughter means safety from war. They want him to be happy, but his safety comes first. That’s why they check on him throughout the night, to make sure he doesn’t sneak out of the house.

When he turns 12, he manages it. His parents are away on a business trip to Zaun, his nanny is asleep, and he has the entire night. He finds an old cloak and takes to the streets of Noxus. He watches, observes the violence and thievery that occurs on every street and he’s quick to pick it up. He doesn’t need anything that he steals; he does it for the thrill, the sheer fact of knowing that he’s defying his parents’ words and that he’s good at something. He figures that, whenever his parents are out of town and he’s free to the city, he’s a force to be reckoned with.

He makes a mistake when he’s 14. Two years of stealing and exploring the city has him making maps. He plans out where he goes, memorizes who frequents those areas. He knows to stay away from the sewers and the older parts of town, knows that there’s some kind of assassin that calls those areas home. He doesn’t want to risk a run-in with them, and opts for the ‘safer’ areas of Noxus, as if anywhere was safe. He spots someone he doesn’t recognize and seizes the chance, slipping his hand into a pocket when he ‘accidentally’ bumps by. He sees the guards placed too late, realizes the face of nobility when he’s seized by the guard. He could be killed, if his name weren’t already whispered around the streets.

He’s approached by the military. He’s given two options; join and work for them, or be put to death for his crimes against the noble. It’s an easy choice, no matter how much he has to avoid the tears in his parents’ eyes. He mutters ‘sorry’ before he leaves, ignoring the wondering whispers of the neighbors, who had been sure that his family had a daughter. He leaves with his head held high, though his spirit is broken quickly. He’s trained by spies, assassins, but he doesn’t wield a blade to kill or a vial to poison. He channels magic that’s always been inside of him to unlock doors, slide though corridors without alerting guards, and steal.

The Shadow Thief. It’s hardly a unique title, but it’s his. He holds onto the fact that he’s doing it for his own safety, so his parents can be relieved with his life being spared. He has almost no rest, constantly being sent to steal information and valuables from Demacia. He’s even sent to Ionia and Piltover, has to stay in Zaun for weeks before he’s allowed back. Failure is never an option, for while it hasn’t been said, he’s sure that the Executioner wouldn’t mind having another reason to put on a show. It’s been ages since someone of his talent was sentenced to death, and Ezreal doesn’t want to be the first.

The only downside to his position is that he’s sometimes sent to villages. These orders are sparse, with the General preferring to show Noxus’ power with fights and slaughters. He’s sent to clean out any businesses and homes he can, steal their money and goods as much as he can carry. After the first few times, he figures that they really meant all of it. He leaves family ruined, broke, their animals killed and nothing left to their names. 

When he’s sent to find the amulet, he doesn’t know what to make of the power it gives him. For the first time since he was younger, he’s confused. He’s able to clear a path in forest in seconds, leaving nothing but burning remains. He knows that the military wants it, craves its power to annihilate Demacia. It’s what he’s been raised to help. He hates Demacia with his heart; just the name of it is enough to make him sneer in disgust. But when he stares at the amulet, he realizes that it won’t be used on the military. It will be used on everyone; farmers, children, innocent civilians. 

He can’t put it back. He’s taken it, he knows that if he returns empty-handed the Executioner will have his show. He can’t come back with news of defeat. Instead, he pulls his hood over his head and closes the cloak to hide his gauntlet. He disappears into Zaun, Piltover, constantly travelling and quenching the thirst he’s had for his whole life. He can’t stay in the same place for long, knowing that he could be recognized by spies or worse. He doesn’t hear from his parents. He assumes they were told he was dead, and it’s better that they think that.

He disappears into the shadows, and he can’t help but wonder how he would be living if he’d grown up differently. He humors himself in his sleep, dreaming of a bright-eyed, bleach-blond teenager from Piltover who’s never home. 

They’re just dreams, of course.


End file.
